Play the Game
by time x is x forever x
Summary: Massie Block is an aspiring sports writer and her first big assignment is to interview the league's biggest, not to mention hottest, quarterback. Will Derrick Harrington school her in the rules of the game or will she teach him a thing or two? Based on First and Ten.


My heels clicked along the dank concrete walkway, the sharp beats echoing the pounding of my heart. I stopped for a second and leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath and calming my nerves. I smoothed my black knee-length skirt and silently cursed the stiletto shoes my best friend, Alicia, had forced me to wear. She said I had to look "professionally hot" whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. And maybe I did look good but it's not like I was walking into a board room. I was headed into a dirty, sweaty locker room for crying out loud. But Alicia told me there was never an excuse not to look good and I only made a first impression once. I had to be honest; making a good impression now was of the utmost importance.

It was my first assignment as the new Westchester Eagles beat writer for _The New York Times._ I'd been given this opportunity due to an unfortunate heart attack of my boss, Buddy Jackson, long time sports journalist. I'd been under his tutelage for the past two years, stuck covering high school sports and stat checking. Now, here I was in the big time and I was about to take my first steps into the locker room to interview the one and only Derrick Harrington.

Derrick Harrington was the hottest quarterback in the league, both on and off the field. He averaged 350 yards and three touchdowns a game, and that was usually on an off night. He was built like Michelangelo's _David_, ripped and chiseled as if molded by the Gods themselves. I mentally scolded myself for sounding like a ridiculous fangirl but I couldn't help it and I certainly wasn't alone. The Eagles had sold out every single game since they drafted Derrick Harrington three years ago. He was as hot off the field as on it, having been linked to several big time actresses and models during his tenure as the Eagles starting quarterback. Since his break up with supermodel Claire Lyons several months back there had been no news on any new women in his life though.

His movie star good looks were just part of the package of course, but they were a very attractive part indeed. He was 6'4" tall with piercing brown eyes and riotous hair that was a mix of browns, blonds and even some red. His face was impossibly handsome; chiseled cheekbones, a jaw that could cut glass and lips that were incredibly bitable. And his smile…his smile lit up a room. He exuded charm and charisma and was an interviewer's dream. Now I was that interviewer and I had no idea what to say or do when I walked into that room.

Despite the profusion of gorgeous women parading the sidelines for ESPN, CBS, Fox & NBC, sports journalism was still an old boy's club. The lovely women on the sidelines shoving their microphones into a coaches' face at halftime rarely knew shit about the game and they always asked the most mundane questions. "Coach, what adjustments will you make at halftime?" Like he's going to fucking answer that for the world to hear. Half of them were just there to flirt with the players. And now I sounded like a bitter bitch but I couldn't help it; I knew and loved the game and it was important to me that I got real information, not the same old clichés that other reporters espoused. Buddy had told me never to hold back what I knew about the game, to gain respect instead of flirt my way through an interview. And now I had to attempt to do that with the hottest guy in the league.

I glanced at my slim gold watch and noted that I was running fifteen minutes late. Way to make a good first impression, Massie. I hurried down the corridor as fast as the death trap heels would allow and arrived at the locker room slightly winded. I showed my press pass to the guard outside the room and he nodded me in. I took another deep breath and instantly regretted it as the smell of sweat assaulted my nose. You'd think that they'd figure out a way to mask the stink in the locker room, being a top notch organization and all, but clearly that was not the case here.

I made my way through the mass of lockers, grateful that the other players had cleared out quickly. They were probably off to celebrate their latest win and here I was making Derrick wait. I heard his voice in the back of the room to the left and my heart stuttered a little. I started to head that way but stopped behind a row of lockers when I heard the irritation in his tone.

"So where is this guy? He was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago and I have to get home." His voice, smooth and beautiful even when he was annoyed, sent shivers down my spine. I scolded myself for my typical female reaction and decided to focus on the fact that Derrick was referring to me as a "he". Of course he would assume that, wouldn't he?

"I'm sure he'll be here soon, Derrick. He's new, apparently. He probably got lost on the way down here." Jake Harrington was Derricks's father and he also served as the team's physician. He was highly respected in the sports medical field and the team was thrilled when he came aboard a year after his son became their starting quarterback. He was nearly as gorgeous as his son was and actually had his own cheering section in the stands as well. It was completely ridiculous but I can't say I didn't understand the sentiment; Dr. Harrington was extremely good looking. Not that I was remotely tempted to wear a stethoscope and carry a sign saying _Examine me, Dr. Feelgood._ Yeah, that really happened. Pathetic.

"Buddy never kept me waiting," Edward muttered.

Jake laughed. "You're just anxious to get out of here. I wonder why that is?" There was something in his tone that indicated he knew exactly why that was but he wasn't saying.

"Sure, Dad. Did Coach Clapp mention who the new guy is, anyway?"

"I could barely hear him, it sounded like Lassie Tock? Nobody I ever heard of." Well shit, no wonder they kept referring to me as a guy. They really had no clue. I bit my lip and fiddled with my long brown hair, pushing it over my shoulders. I figured I'd better make myself known before he got anymore irritated than he already was by my tardiness.

I rounded the corner and jerked to a stop when I saw Derrick sitting on one of the massage tables, his eyes closed as his father held an ice pack to his right shoulder. He'd thrown for 423 yards and 4 touchdowns tonight and his arm had to have been dead tired. Of course it wasn't the ice on his shoulder that halted my progress, it was the site of Derrick clad in nothing but a towel, his gorgeous tan chest bare and still glistening with sweat. I watched, transfixed, as a drop of water slid from the ice pack down his body, leaving a wet trail down his right pectoral muscle, over those incredible abs and disappearing beneath his towel. I never wanted to do anything more than I wanted to trace the path of that water droplet with my tongue.

Dr. Harrington must have heard the drool falling at my feet because he looked up and smiled when he saw me. "Hello, can I help you?"Derrick's eyes opened and I felt pinned by that forest gaze. His eyes widened slightly as he took me in and a slow smile spread over his face. I felt myself get wet from just that simple look. _Get it together, Massie, you're here to do a job, not turn into a puddle of goo at the sight of the hottest man on the planet. You've seen hot guys before, now suck it up and be professional. _My inner voice sounded surprisingly like Alicia, which was weird since she would probably be screeching at the top of her lungs telling me to woman up and go get him.

I took a deep breath and attempted to calm the butterflies swirling around my stomach. Nothing could be done about my arousal but I damn well wasn't going to embarrass myself by showing it. "Hello, Dr. Harrington. My name is Massie Block and I'm here to interview Derrick for _The Times. _Sorry, I'm late; it was a madhouse out there."There, that wasn't so bad and I'd managed to get the words out without stammering like a schoolgirl, so bonus points for that.

"You're Lassie Tock?" Derrick blurted, shock in his tone. I frowned, somewhat annoyed by his reaction. I realize I didn't have a penis but I could cover football just as well as "Lassie Tock" could.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "No, I'm Massie Block. Whoever gave you the name clearly got it wrong," I informed him sarcastically. Great, I sounded like a complete bitch right in front of his father. This was going quite well. Jake Harrington's eyes flew between me and his son and he smirked, looking remarkably like Derrick in that moment. I could see where he got his devastating smile; the apple didn't fall from the tree.

"Perhaps I should leave you two alone," he suggested, handing the ice pack to his son and stepping away. "Derrick, I'll see you tomorrow night for dinner?"

Derrick's eyes never left mine as he responded, "Sure," to his father. Jake shook his head and left. Neither of us said a word as we listened to Dr. Harrington leave the locker room. There was a long minute of silence as we held each other's gaze. I shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say or do now that we were alone. I really wanted to rip his towel off his body and ravage him and while I assumed the female readers would appreciate reading about that, I didn't think my editor would be all too pleased.

I cleared my throat. "So, Mr. Harrington," I began and his eyes flashed with humor and a smile lit his face. "Quite a night for you."

"Oh, that's how we're playing it?" I arched an eyebrow at him and he smirked yet again. "Yes, _Ms. Block,_ I had a very good night." His eyes moved up and down my body and I shifted under his intense scrutiny. I swear those eyes could see through my white silk blouse and simple white lace bra. "And it looks to be getting better," he finished, looking quite pleased with himself. It was clear he knew the effect he was having on me.

Somehow my feet were moving of their own accord and I wound up standing about a foot away from him. Up close he was more gorgeous, if that was even possible. I could reach out and touch him if I wanted, but instead I reached into my bag and took out my mini recorder.

"Is it alright with you if I record this conversation?" I asked formally, though I planned to do it with or without his consent.

"Sure," he answered, amusement still in his voice and a sparkle in his eye. It was infuriating how relaxed he was while I felt like a mother sending her kid off to school for the first time. What was with these nerves? So he was almost naked and completely sexy, I could handle it. He shifted on the massage table and the towel opened a little, showing a sliver of one muscular thigh. I bit back a groan and curled my fingers into a ball so I would resist the urge to run my fingers over that opening and then open it some more. Fuck, it was hot in here.

I bit my lip and smiled in satisfaction when I heard a muttered curse pass his beautiful lips. "What was that, Mr. Harrington?"

"Nothing, Ms. Block. Please, feel free to call me Derrick. Mr. Harrington is my father's name." There was that half smirk again. I wanted to kiss it off his face.

I pressed record on my tape player and set it down on the massage table, not removing my hand from the apparatus. I knew my first question had to be impressive; something to get him to open up about the game and to forget that I was a woman who was clearly lusting after his incredible body. "Derrick, what made you throw to Hotz on the opening drive of the second half when he was clearly being blanketed by three DB's?" Josh Hotz was Edward's favorite target, a 6'2 wide receiver with a lanky build, dark brown eyes and shaggy black hair. He more than his fair share of admirers as well, with good reason.

He tilted his head to the side and grinned at me. "He caught it, didn't he?"

I shook my head. "Sure, but it wasn't a high percentage pass. The risk of throwing an interception was certainly greater than completing the throw."

He pinned me with his eyes again, his chocolate brown gaze almost hypnotic. I clenched my thighs together and gripped the table harder. "I always complete my passes," his voice was liquid sex and I nearly passed out at his words, the double entendre clear as day.

Damn it, I had to get this interview under control. "You threw a pick six last week," I pointed out and bit back a laugh as the smirk fell away from his lips and he scowled at me.

"That was because that prick Crane was holding Josh and the refs were too fucking blind to see it," he spat angrily, the memory of the play clearly pissing him off. I fought hard not to laugh. It was nice to get under his skin since he was already under mine. I wanted him to be under me and above me and inside me and fuck…not good Massie. _Oh it would be very good, Massie, and you know it. _Shut up inner Alicia. My best friend was a pest even when she wasn't here.

"Well, a pick's a pick," I pointed out smugly and watched his eyes glint with anger. He was even hotter when he was angry.

"I didn't throw one today," he pointed out and I took that as a cue to get back to today's game and stop harassing him about an errant throw from last week.

"No, you didn't. You were 28 of 33 with 438 yards passing, quite an impressive day."

"Thanks," he looked slightly mollified.

"You ran twice as many passing as running plays and the majority of those came after you were up by two touchdowns. Don't you think you need to work on balance a little more?" I asked and watched as his lips twitched. I wanted to bite him.

"I don't call the plays, the offensive coordinator does," he told me, as if I was an idiot who didn't know that.

"I'm aware of that but I'm also aware that you have the propensity to change the play at the line. You call your own audibles," I pointed out. "You, Brady and Manning are the only three quarterbacks in the league to have the autonomy to change it up. Are you telling me that every one of your throws was called by the OC?"

He shifted again and the towel fell open a little more, revealing the sexiest knee I'd ever laid eyes on. Who knew knees could be fucking sexy? I looked back at him and he chuckled as he made note of my wandering eyes. "No, Miss Block, I made adjustments based on the defense. They were putting eight in the box so throwing made sense. They would have stuffed the run."

"You were pretty confident that you weren't going to get sacked. They blitzed you on two thirds of the passing plays yet you never went down. How can you stand in the pocket so calmly knowing that a blitzing linebacker is coming at you?"

He grinned at me. "Easy. I have Plovert covering my back. He'd take out his own mother before he'd let anyone hit me. He's a hell of a lineman. Best in the business."

"His contract agrees with you," I responded dryly. Chris Plovert had just signed the biggest contract for a left tackle in the league.

"He's worth every penny," Derrick assured me. I couldn't argue with that statement, Harrington was rarely hit from his blind side and Plovert was the one protecting him.

"You never did explain why you made that throw to Hotz," I reminded him.

He chuckled and shook his head. "Josh and I can run that play in our sleep. I would throw it to him with all eleven guys covering him and he'd make the catch each and every time. He knows what way to cut and exactly how to time it," the confidence in his tone was doing naughty things to my body again. Damned if I didn't find his ego extremely sexy.

"Dallas has a pretty good defense but you shredded their secondary today. How did you manage to make Fisher and Hurley look like amateurs out there?"

He laughed and leaned back, making that towel shift yet again. Another two inches and he'd be showing me the most coveted cock in the country. I willed the towel to continue moving. His hand landed on the table just an inch from mine and I swear I could feel sparks shooting between our finger tips. His fingers were extremely long and almost elegant, like they belonged to a musician instead of an athlete. He could play me any time.

"Those are your words, not mine! I don't need to give those guys any ammunition; we'll probably see them again in the playoffs."

"You sound pretty confident that you'll make the playoffs."

He shrugged and rolled his shoulder a little, wincing at the tightness in his muscles. Before I could stop myself the words tumbled out of my mouth. "Do you want me to rub it?" Holy fuck, what did I just say?

He stared at me for a moment, no doubt making sure that I wasn't going to collapse seeing as I had turned bright red at my words. I felt the heat in my cheeks and didn't need a mirror to know that I was the color of a cherry tomato right about now. His tongue snaked out of his mouth and wet his lips and I nearly died on the spot.

"That would be very kind of you, Miss Block," he purred and I swear to God moisture was seeping down my thighs. I moved behind him automatically and put my hands on both his shoulders even though it was only the right one that hurt. I felt all those glorious muscles bunch under my touch and heard him stifle a groan as I began to knead his shoulders. "That feels incredible," he whispered, his head falling forward. I felt my fingers twitch with the urge to bury themselves in his hair but I kept my hands on his scrumptious upper torso instead. It wasn't remotely a hardship.

"I think this is my favorite interview of all time," Derrick informed me and I felt humiliation wash over me. Here I was acting like one of his fangirls instead of conducting myself like a true journalist. I should stop touching him and finish up the interview before I did something even more stupid. But that would require me to remove my hands from his body and I really didn't want to. I was pathetic. I started to pull away when his hands came up and caught mine. "I didn't mean it like that, Massie." My first name spilling from his lips made me as weak in the knees as my last name did. "Your questions are insightful, you challenge me when I give you a pat answer, you respond to my innuendo with class and you're stunning. Hands down, my favorite interview."

His words warmed me as he'd meant them to and I no longer felt the need to stop touching him. Who gave a damn about propriety? It was only the two of us here. I began to massage his shoulders again so he released my hands and let me have at it.

"In answer to your question, we only need to win one more and we clinch the division. Two more and we've got home field throughout the playoffs. I want it so bad I can taste it."

"Last year still leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, doesn't it?" Taste…there was a dangerous word when I had my hands on him.

"We got outplayed. The Saints dominated our defense and I had my worst day since I'd been in the league. Two inexcusable interceptions. I'd like to think if Hotz hadn't been injured the outcome would have been different but who can say?" His muscles tensed underneath my hands as he spoke of getting ousted in the first round of last year's playoffs.

"Hey, relax, I'm not going to do you any good if you don't calm down," I reminded him, digging my fingers in harder as I sought to relieve the tension.

"I suspect you could help me calm down easily," he muttered. I blushed again and was grateful he couldn't see me. I ran my hands down his arms and looked at the smooth planes of his glistening chest rising and falling with each breath he took. Speaking of rising, I could see stirring beneath his towel. I had pretty much crossed every line of professionalism but that last one and I refused to succumb to the temptation to hop on the massage table and fuck him into oblivion no matter how much I wanted to.

I rubbed him down for a few more seconds and then reluctantly released him and moved back around the table. "Thank you for the interview. I think I got everything I needed," I told him quietly, turning off my recorder with a click and slipping it back into my bag. I avoided his eyes as I put my purse over my shoulder and turned to go.

"Did you?" I couldn't read his tone so I turned to look at him and the instant I did I knew I was done for. His brown eyes were nearly black with desire and he was looking at me as if I were something to eat. I felt my heart kick into gear as I recognized the hunger on his face.

"Yes," I squeaked in response, going against my every instinct and stepping back from that predatory look. He pushed himself off the table, the towel hanging low on his hips but still perched there, albeit precariously. I nearly salivated at the sight of that perfect V between his hips.

"Are you sure about that?" There it was again, that voice that promised to do wicked things if only I'd give him the slightest encouragement. My body was egging him on without my consent, I felt my nipples harden and I saw his eyes get even darker as he saw clearly though my white blouse.

I stared into that gorgeous face and I couldn't lie, I wanted him and he knew it. "No," I answered. He continued toward me as I backed into the lockers, the cool red metal pressing against my overheated body. His arms came on either side of me, effectively pinning me against the wall.

"What else do you need, Miss Block?" His lips were an inch away from mine and I could almost taste him already. He still glistened with sweat, which should have been disgusting but on him it was incredibly appealing. I wanted to run my tongue over every inch of his body and from the looks of things, he certainly wouldn't mind. He moved his left hand closer to my head and his extremely long thumb, dear Lord it was long, traced along my jaw. I let out an involuntary whimper and angled my face so he had better access. I felt my skin pebbling under each gentle brush of that incredible thumb. Before I could think about what I was doing, I moved my head and took his thumb into my mouth. It was his turn to moan then and he pressed his body against mine completely. He was hard, everywhere.

I let my tongue and teeth work over his thumb as he pulled and pushed it gently in my mouth. I knew he was fantasizing it was his cock and frankly so was I. He finally pressed his exquisite lips to my cheek, moving along my jaw and around my ear where he began nibbling on my lobe, a particular favorite of mine. He knew what he was doing, every move calculated to bring me to my knees.

"You didn't answer me," he breathed into my ear, causing shivers to move through my entire body. "What else do you need, Massie?" His voice caressed my name; the pretense of calling me Miss Block was finally gone.

I released his thumb from between my lips and let my head and hands fall back against the lockers. "You, I want you," I informed him breathlessly, incapable of saying anymore than that as he continued nibbling on my ear. I felt rather than saw the smile that spread across his face at my words.

He pulled back and showed me that sexy smirk of his and this time I gave in to the urge to bite it, taking his lower lip between my teeth and causing him to groan in reaction and thrust his body against mine. Thanks to my ridiculous heels, we fit together perfectly, his cock was aligned with my pussy and all it would take was for him to lift my skirt and take me. I ground myself against him, anxious for him to do just that.

He removed his lips from mine and ran his tongue over them, tasting me, though not the way I wanted him to. "You know, Massie, I'm a very competitive person," he told me, his brown eyes twinkling mischievously.

What the fuck? "I am aware of that, most athletes are," I responded, my voice slightly irritated because I wanted to know why he wasn't ravaging me right now. Why were we talking again?

"Perhaps, but I'm your first interview, correct?" He knew the answer to this question but I figured I'd play along so maybe he'd get back to touching me sometime soon.

"Yes, you are."

His smile turned back into that smirk that I was growing to both love and hate at the same time. "Well, I think it's vitally important that I be the best interview you ever have. I can't stand to be second best, as I'm sure you've gathered. I want to stand out, so that you never forget your first time, such as it is."

My body turned to jelly at his words and I fought not to launch myself into his arms. There was a game to be played here and I was going to do my part. "That's probably going to be pretty difficult. I'm sure I'll interview hundreds, maybe even thousands, of nearly naked football players in my lifetime. Soon they'll be blurred together and you'll just be one of the masses." I bit back a laugh at the scowl that marred his handsome face. As if I would ever forget this.

My twitching lips gave me away, though, and he narrowed his eyes. "That sounds like a challenge, Miss Block." Ahh, we were back to fake formality. Okay with me.

"You're very observant, Mr. Harrington." Two could play the name game.

"They say you never forget your first," he pointed out with a triumphant little smile.

"Sometimes your first is worth forgetting," I answered. He let out a surprised laugh and shook his head.

"Well, then, I guess I'll just have to make it unforgettable, won't I?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "If you think you can, I'm not going to stop you."

His eyes darkened again, that bright brown nearly swallowed by the black. Fuck that was incredibly sexy, he was like a panther stalking his prey. Only this prey was ready and willing to be taken.

"Tell me, Miss Block, have you ever been fucked in a locker room before?" I shook my head mutely, my mouth going dry at the way he was watching me and the way he said the word fucked.

His eyes raked up and down my body. "Of course you haven't, a sweet, innocent looking woman like you; with your big amber doe eyes and that soft, plump lower lip that you keep biting…most men would be gentle with a woman like you. They'd feather light little touches over every inch of your body, followed by soft kisses that you could barely feel." His words were hypnotic, spoken in a velvet voice that made me feel as if I did feel those slight touches all over. "They'd take their time, memorize every inch of that delectable little package you present, savor all your flavors, before sliding gently into you and making love to you all night long. Does that sound about right, Miss Block?"

I smiled; remembering a recent night just like that, a night where I'd felt like a princess being worshipped for hours on end. "Yes, it certainly does." Where had that voice come from? I sounded like I'd run a marathon, I was completely breathless.

His hands found my waist and he slowly untucked my blouse from my skirt. I yearned for him to touch me. He didn't though, he just let his hands linger above my clothes and I fought back a scream of frustration. He let out a chuckled and dragged his hands up the opening V of my shirt, tracing my collar bones with the tips of his fingers.

"Well, Miss Block, since you've already had that, it certainly wouldn't be memorable if I were to do that for you, would it?" Like hell it wouldn't. Everything with this man would be memorable; I knew that just as well as I knew my own name.

"It might be," I informed him, wincing at the whine in my voice. His fingers were shooting little sparks through my body and he was just barely skimming them over my décolletage. I needed them everywhere.

"Might be isn't good enough for a guy like me. I need to be the best you'll ever have." Cocky bastard.

"I guess I'll have to contact you in about sixty years and let you know for sure," I said, giving him a smirk of my own.

He laughed smoothly, completely unbothered by my words. "Oh I think you'll know way sooner than that."

"I won't know anything until you actually fuck me, will I?" I asked through gritted teeth.

The mirth fled his face and he frowned. "No, I suppose not. So be it then." And before I could even register the words, his hands gasped the neck of my blouse and yanked, shredding it effortlessly, sending buttons flying. I gasped but that's all I could do before his lips were on mine, the gentle nipping kisses from earlier gone. His lips were devouring mine, his tongue forcing my lips open and warring with mine in a silent battle that neither of us would lose. His hands found my breasts and he squeezed in time with his kisses, his thumbs flicking over my aching nipples sending electric jolts of pleasure through my chest. My hands finally buried themselves in his hair, tugging on those gorgeously mismatched strands of his.

He reached behind me and expertly unhooked my bra, he was clearly no novice at that act…most guys at least fumbled around a little but of course Derrick Harrington was a pro. I didn't really have time to care about the state of my clothes though, as those incredibly long fingers slid the bra off my shoulders and down my arms and then returned to cup my now bare breasts. Finally his hands were on my bare skin. Thank God.

He removed his lips from mine and dragged them down my neck, stopping to suck on the collar bones he'd been caressing earlier before continuing down to my aching breasts. He took the right one into his mouth, flicking the nipple expertly while doing the same to my left breast with his hands. Pleasure jolted through me at his touch and I thought I just might come from his ministrations on my breasts alone. That would be a first. I murmured my approval and held his head to my breast, not wanting him to stop anytime soon. He laughed and I felt it vibrate through my entire torso.

He switched to my left breast and played with the right one the same way he'd done before. I could feel tingles all through my body and my stomach felt as if I were at the very top of a roller coaster, about to teeter over into the free fall. That was my favorite part of the ride. This ride was only just beginning though and I hoped we hadn't reached the crescendo already.

As if he heard my thoughts, Derricks's right hand snaked underneath my skirt and he ran his thumb over my dripping wet underwear. I let out a loud moan and jerked at the sudden contact. He chuckled but continued sucking on my nipple gently. His hands weren't so gentle though, his thumb was applying more and more pressure on my pussy and I rocked against his hand, anxious to feel those long fingers inside of me.

I felt my skirt slowly riding up and took a moment to be grateful that he didn't appear to be ripping it off me, though I felt a tug of disappointment as well. Not that I really wanted to wander out of the stadium in nothing but my underwear but I couldn't find it in me to care at the moment if I did. Derrick released my breast and I let out a little sigh of disappointment. It didn't last long though as he got to his knees in front of me. I felt more liquid pooling at my thighs just from the site of the glorious creature in front of me.

"Miss Block?" he asked, his hands caressing my thighs as his thumbs swept over my aching lips.

"Hmm?" was all I could manage in response. I was lucky I was still able to stand; it felt like I was shaking like a leaf.

"How is the interview going so far?" he asked with a huge grin that looked almost boyish in his handsome face.

I opened my mouth to curse him but just then his thumbs hooked beneath my underwear and made contact with my clit. Anything I had been planning to say melted away as I felt pleasure erupt from just that brief touch. My hands crashed loudly against the lockers, sending a rattling sound through the room. Derrick watched me ride out the orgasm, continuing to run his thumbs softly over my clit as I ground against them.

Derrick's thumbs stilled and I was able to focus again, noticing that somehow he'd managed to keep that towel on despite his current position on the floor. That just wasn't right. I was about to correct that when he gave an unexpected tug on my underwear and I heard the seams rip as he pulled it off me. Fuck, there went another piece of clothing. He looked at the black thong for a moment and then smirked at me. "You know, Miss Block, you have that whole demure thing going on with that white shirt and bra but then you wear naughty black underwear that nobody can see. Nobody but me that is. You're quite a study in contrasts. I like it."

"The outside package is for everyone, the inside package is just for me," I informed him. My black panties made me feel sexy and confident.

"And for me, at least right now," he pointed out, quite correctly. I hadn't expected us to be here like this but I'd be lying if I said I hadn't fantasized about it a time or twenty. "I've wanted to taste you since you walked in this room," he informed me and as I processed that he leaned forward and ran his tongue over my clit. Holy fuck that felt incredible. He wasn't slow or gentle; his tongue whirled over me like he was in a race. Who could make the girl come the fastest? Derrick would win, hands down. Or tongue down, I guess. I let the lockers behind me support my body because I was going to collapse if I had to rely on my legs to hold me through this. Heat swamped my body and I broke out into a sweat of my 's tongue worked me over and as if that didn't feel good enough, those sexy fingers joined the party. He slid one inside me and I let out my loudest moan yet as he curled his finger forward and hit my most sensitive spot. He moved his finger in and out slowly, contrasting with the quick motion of his tongue on my clit. The dueling speeds drove me wild and I was lost in sensation. The entire team could have walked into the room and watched us and I wouldn't have noticed.

I felt him slide a second finger inside me and he began to speed up his motion to match his tongue's speed. I felt like I was burning on the inside as he moved faster and faster. My thighs started to clench and I felt that telltale tightening as I came apart, my walls clamping down on his talented fingers. I gasped his name as he continued his movements, not content to let me come down from my high. I don't know how many times I came. Three? Four? Seven? I'd heard of multiple orgasms but I thought they were a myth. Clearly I was wrong.

I was a quivering mass of jelly by the time he pulled away from me and I started to slide down the lockers but he caught me before I could hit the floor. "Massie? Are you okay?" Okay? There wasn't a word for what I was but I knew okay would not remotely cover it. I put my hands on that sexy bare chest and mumbled out a few nonsensical sounds. He chuckled and helped me stand back up again. "Maybe you should sit down." I shook my head in denial. I wasn't done with him yet, I just had to get myself in control.

I reached out and pulled on his towel, finally setting eyes on the glory that was Derrick's cock. I've never found a dick to be attractive, they're veiny and weird looking mostly. But of course, Derrick's managed to be beautiful despite that. It was long and very hard, jutting out proudly from his hips. I licked my lips and imagined taking his cock into my mouth. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his shoulder, opening my mouth and running my tongue along the length of it. He tasted of man and sweat and grass. I liked it. I licked my way down to his nipple and flicked it with my tongue. His hands found my waist and he pulled me closer to him, his cock running up and down the lips of my pussy. I whimpered against his chest and nibbled on his nipple then swirled my tongue around it. He groaned and thrust against me. He was so close to being where I wanted him. Just a couple inches…

As if he was reading my mind again, Derrick's hands tightened on my waist and he lifted me off the ground, pressing me back into the cool metal and sliding his cock slowly into my aching pussy. I arched my hips toward him, anxious to have him completely inside me and wrapped my legs around his waist. My hands found purchase on those slick shoulders and I pulled him all the way inside of me. We both gasped at the sensation of his cock sliding slowly in and out of me. But I didn't want slow and he'd promised. "Fuck me, Derrick. Hard, just like you said you would." His eyes darkened and he instantly complied, his hips moving quickly in and out, meeting mine in perfect rhythm.

I felt one of the handles of the lockers pressing into my back and it hurt but I didn't really care. I arched away from it as best as I could and met him thrust for thrust. Our bodies were now both slick with sweat but it only made our motion smoother. A lock of hair fell in his face and I brushed it back, my lips finding his as we crashed together over and over. I couldn't believe it when I felt it again, my thighs clenched against him and I came apart, sobbing out his name as I came hard. How I had it in me to come like that after all the other orgasms was beyond me. I tightened around Derrick and that was all he needed, releasing inside me with several long, hard thrusts.

We collapsed against the wall, both of us breathing heavily and covered in sweat. I didn't know how in the hell I was going to get out of here, with a ripped blouse and looking like I'd been rode hard and put away wet. Derrick's hands cupped my ass as he carried me away from the lockers and into the shower area. He turned on the water while I took off my skirt and he walked both of us into the spray. I sighed in relief as the sweat washed from our bodies. "It's missing some of the amenities but at least we'll be semi-clean," he told me with a grin, squirting body wash into his hands and lathering it up before running his hands over me. I felt myself responding again but squashed the desire. I'd had more than enough, thank you very much. Still, those lovely fingers rinsing my body felt incredible. I closed my eyes and leaned back into the spray.

Derrick took my hand and squirted some soap into it, looking at me expectantly. I sighed jokingly and returned the favor, cleaning him as thoroughly as he had me. I saw his cock stirring again and laughed. "I can't go another round, Derrick. Not right now."

He laughed and pressed a kiss to my cheek. "I know. We need to get out of here."

"Uh, speaking of that, do you have a shirt or something I can wear?" He took a towel out of the tidy pile next to the showers and dried me thoroughly. His touch was so gentle after the hard fucking we'd just shared, it was quite a contrast. He opened his locker and reached inside.

"Here," he said, handing me a clean jersey. Harrington #10. It was entirely too big for me but I didn't give a damn. It was mine and he wasn't getting it back. I pulled it and my skirt back on, tucking my bra and ruined underwear into my bag. I'd have to remember to clean that out before I went in to type up my story.

I watched as he pulled on black jeans and a white t-shirt that did nothing to hide those beautiful muscles rippling underneath. God he was gorgeous. He caught me ogling him and flashed me a soft smile. I wasn't sure what to say now that we were done with all the sexual tension.

"Well I need to get into work to write my story so I guess I should be going now." I didn't want to leave him but I did have work to do and I didn't want to presume that…

"Massie, why didn't you tell me about your promotion?" he asked softly, looking a little hurt. Gone was the cocky athlete that had just ravaged me in the locker room. Here was the real Derrick Harrington; sweet, smart and sometimes just a little unsure of himself. We'd been dating for two months now and while things were still new, I knew without a doubt that I'd want him forever. I got to see a new side of him tonight and damned if it wasn't as attractive as every other side.

I walked over to him and wound my arms around his waist. He pulled me into his arms and held me tightly. "I found out this morning. You'd already left and well, I wanted to surprise you. I hope it was a good one."

He laughed and squeezed me tighter. "I'll say. I didn't quite know what to say when I saw you. And then my dad…"

"Yeah that's not quite how I wanted to meet you father," I said, laughing along with him. "What's he going to say when actually meets me for real?"

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "He already knew your name, Massie. He left to give us some privacy." Oh, that was pretty embarrassing. Hopefully he had no clue what his son and I were going to do when he left. Derrick reached into his locker and pulled out his cell phone. He chuckled as he pressed a button and showed me the text message.

_It was good to finally meet your girlfriend. Bring her to dinner tomorrow night; your mother will be irritated that I met her first._

"I guess I'm meeting the parents," I said with a laugh.

"Yep, about time too." He closed his locker and took my hand in his. "So?"

"So, what?"

"Was that the best interview ever, or what?"

I bit my lip and pretended to think about it. He let go of my hand and started tickling me, making me shriek with laughter. "Yes! Okay? Yes!" He stopped and grinned at me in triumph.

"And you'll never have another interview like it, right?" he asked, watching me expectantly.

"Well, I don't know. I was thinking of heading over the Cowboys' locker room and seeing if Tony Romo was still there. Maybe he could give you a run for your money." Derrick growled and threw me over his shoulder. "Derrick! What are you doing?"

"Taking you home, you won't be riding Romo or any other Cowboy tonight," he told me. I enjoyed the view of his ass clad in those tight black jeans.

"Derrick, you have to put me down," I told him, as he made his way out of the locker room and carried me past several startled security guards and fans waiting for an autograph. "People are going to start talking," I hissed, blood rushing to my face both from the position I was in and embarrassment at all the eyes upon me.

He put me down but kept his arm around me. "Let them talk. I'm tired of hiding. You're mine and I want the world to know it." His words swept over me and I felt like I'd won the lottery. In a way I had. Derrick Harrington was a much better prize than any money.

I wrapped my arm around him as well and let him lead me out of the stadium. "Derrick?"

He stopped beside his Mercedes and looked at me. "Yes, Massie?"

I pursed my lips and he bent down to give me a kiss. "Best interview ever," I murmured against his lips. He laughed and kissed me harder, then pulled away and opened the passenger side door for me.

"I told you," he reminded me smugly. And so he had.


End file.
